


Just Another Trick of the Light

by dismalzelenka



Series: And the Sky Will Burn [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Abuse of Power, Character Death, Gen, Modern Thedas, Open Investigation, Police Brutality, Prequel, Tranquility, newspaper clippings, violence against mages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-01 20:51:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20264347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dismalzelenka/pseuds/dismalzelenka
Summary: It wasn't always this way. Once upon a time, before the world fell apart, there was a little girl on a playground who spun light from her fingertips.Her name was Olivia Thrask. This is her story.





	Just Another Trick of the Light

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know where this insatiable need of mine came from, to hunt down obscure minor canon characters and make them Important, but there it is, and here we are.

She sits at the edge of the playground on top of an abandoned piece of concrete piping and watches a bee float lazily from clover to thistle. A shriek echoes off of a nearby fence, feet pound on the pavement nearby, and soon she hears someone yelling her name.

“Livvy! We're playin’ mages and templars, can you come do that light trick?”

A breeze sends a stray lock of frizzy red hair across her nose. She reaches in her pocket and wraps her hand around the clear crystal block she pilfered from one of the older kids’ exhibits at the annual science fair and grins, all skinny arms and gangly legs as she sprints to join her friends. “Gonna get you this time, Owen!” she yells with glee, fingers clutching her most prized possession.

It’s just a piece of solid, angularly cut glass, but in the right lighting it sends colored streaks of light scattering all around. It's not magic (thank the Maker), not really, the adults tell her, but the colors streaming from a transparent block of solid emptiness certainly look like magic to her.

Sure, it casts its beauty well enough in anyone's hands, but she's the only one who can make the lights _ dance _ . It's an easy trick, she says. They giggle when she says it. “No,” they insist. “It's ‘cause you can do magic!” And so the game continues.

It's not real magic, her teacher insists, but it's real enough for this. 

* * *

She wakes in a panic from a nightmare involving a failed math test and almost falls from her bed in shock at the warm, ethereal glow quickly fading from her fingers back into the palms of her hands.

It’s just a dream. Just a dream, she repeats as she huddles back into her blankets, just a dream that lingered ever so slightly into the brief in-between of waking and sleeping. _A little spill_.

There's a faded handprint on her sheets the next morning. She grabs a pair of scissors and cuts it out, shoves the patch into the front pocket of her backpack and pulls the comforter neatly over her mattress.

“Sweetheart! You made your bed!” her mother exclaims later in delight.

Olivia knows she'll be grounded come laundry day, but a fate she can expect is far less frightening than an alternative she can't explain. 

* * *

It's her sixteenth birthday, and she's at the arcade with a purse full of quarters, a raspberry slurpee, and an entire afternoon to attempt beating her high score in Battle Bots III. Owen greets her with a hug that lingers a touch longer than usual before a grin breaks out across his freckled face.

“Got you a present,” he says. He hands her a small box wrapped messily in wrinkled Sunday newspaper comics. A sheepish expression mars his features. “Sorry. Worked extra hours for a couple weeks, but I still couldn't afford actual wrapping paper after paying Dad my half of the electric bill, so I stole this from the neighbor’s lawn instead.”

Olivia snickers and punches him amicably in the arm, but worry twists her insides when she takes in the bags under his eyes. It’s only been less than six months since his mother died in police custody, the official reason listed as “accidental suicide by misfired magic.”

She knew Owen's mother just well enough to know how unlikely of a story that is. She isn’t sure she will ever believe the headlines again.

* * *

She sits in the principal’s office, face in her hands, tears slipping between her fingers and landing to pool on the windbreaker folded on her lap. It wasn’t supposed to happen at all, and it sure as fuck wasn’t supposed to happen like this. 

_ You don’t have a mage license? Are you registered at all? Your parents and the authorities have been notified. What will your father say, I wonder?  
_

What _ would _ he say? George Thrask, career Chantry man, one promotion away from becoming the Kirkwall branch's Knight-Commander.

Father of an unregistered mage.

Olivia fights the urge to sob, tightening her body so that the only evidence of her panic and sorrow remains the steady stream of water flowing down her face and through her fingers. Her whole life, she’s been equal parts admiring and terrified of her father. She worshipped the ground he walked on as a child, because he was always so _ good _ and _ confident _ . A man with unshakeable faith and boundless love for his family. He always knew the answers, knew exactly what to say.

For the first time, she feels nothing but ice cold dread at the prospect of seeing his face.

* * *

_I will take responsibility for her indiscretions and see that appropriate action is taken. I see no need to tarnish the reputation of the school with undue publicity. _

_ As you say, Knight-Captain.  
_

Olivia stares through the passenger window in shock, her father beside her driving the family SUV through an unfamiliar country road as the rocky coast of the Waking Sea races by. Her father’s unexpected response fills her with even more worry, but his stern features have relaxed in the privacy of the car despite the uncomfortable and oppressive silence ringing in her ears.

“Did you truly not know?” She finally asks the question burning a hole in her throat.

He ponders the question, her words suspended in the air like snowflakes captured in a black and white photograph.

“I suspected,” he says finally.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Her second question slips out in a whisper. Her throat is dry with lingering fear.

“You are my daughter,” he says. A simple response, laden with unspoken meaning.

The drive continues in silence, but it is lighter now.

* * *

A deafening roar shakes the house and blows the windows into piles of shattered glass. The silence that follows gives way to screams and sirens. The news sweeps across Thedas within hours, and the world becomes a sea of sound bytes and ominous statistics. Outside, the sky is grey, the air thick with ash, smoke, and debris. Kirkwall City is burning, and _ magic _ lit the fuse.

_ The death toll rises as rescue workers continue working around the clock to pull victims from the rubble— _

_ Fourteen children from a nearby playground found dead beneath a collapsed classroom— _

_ Forensic teams struggle to identify stray body parts— _

Olivia sits on her bed, arms wrapped around her knees, and wonders when her father is coming home. 

* * *

“Baby, wake up. Get dressed. We have to go.”

She opens her eyes to a flashlight pointed at the floor, her mother dressed in blue jeans, running shoes, and a nondescript hoodie and shaking her shoulder with desperate agitation. A small duffel bag sits on the floor, and a similar set of clothes lies in a haphazard pile nearby. The clock reads _ 1:37am. _

“Now, Olivia!” her mother snaps, and adrenaline springs her into action. 

Her mother switches off the flashlight and ushers her through the back door. Olivia hears shouting, but distance muffles the words. An unfamiliar vehicle sits in the driveway, a beat up Toyota Camry with an Ansburg license plate, and the trunk opens with a quiet click. “Get in,” her mother whispers, shoving a heavy blanket into her hands. “Get in, cover yourself up, and don't move or make a sound until I come get you out, do you understand?” 

The wool is scratchy, and the trunk quickly becomes suffocating with sweaty heat, but Olivia barely notices, curled up and frozen in place in the dark. 

Her heart is pounding so loudly she fears she will fall through the floor and onto the pavement below. 

* * *

Somehow, she's fallen asleep despite the chaos, and she wakes up to harsh commands in a language she can't understand. Someone asks for license and registration in a heavily accented voice, and she hears a window lowering, the sound of papers shuffling. 

“Reason for crossing the Nevarran border?” the stranger asks. There is an ominous tone to their question that sends chills down Olivia's spine.

“Visiting my sister in Cumberland,” her mother says. Cool, collected, a perfectly acceptable answer except for the fact that _ they have no family in Cumberland. _Olivia grips the wool blanket with white knuckled fists and chews on the inside of her cheek to hold in the sob that threatens to claw its way out of her lungs. 

More paper shuffling, a heavy pause. “What a time to leave the Marches, no?” the stranger says finally. “Pull forward, please.” 

“Is there a problem, officer?” her mother asks politely. Olivia freezes, eyes wide in the stifling darkness. _ No, _ she thinks, panic flooding her system. This only happens in the movies, this isn't real, this isn't real, _ this isn't real— _

“Routine customs inspection. Lyrium smuggling has been on the rise lately, and with what's happened in Kirkwall City, well. I'm sure you understand.” And then the latch of the trunk clicks and Olivia doesn't remember what breathing is as a blinding light floods the other side of the blanket covering her body. A hand rests where the blanket touches the small of her back, and she stiffens and barely muffles her whimper. 

The light turns off as suddenly as it came. “I never fucking saw you, got it?” she hears someone whisper, and she gasps for air when the trunk slams shut again. She squeezes her eyes back shut and tries to will herself from the Fade back into the waking world, because a nightmare is all this is. It has to be. One too many TV dramas. She swears when she wakes up she's never reading another dystopian teen novel ever again and murmurs prayers under her breath, words from childhood chantry services she didn't even know she still remembered. 

_ Maker, though the darkness stands before me. _

She's still mouthing the Chant when the trunk slams back open and the blanket is ripped away. Someone clamps a hand on her bicep and drags her from her hiding place. 

“Found another one,” a different voice growls in a rough rural Marcher twang. “Nevarran border agents are fucking useless without a templar unit on staff.”

“Don't need to tell me twice,” another man grunts. “Got a name, girl?” 

She only manages a horrified whimper. The one holding onto her arm tightens his grip and shakes her. “Spill it, sweetheart, we ain't got all day.” 

Her ears are ringing, and she doesn't know why until she sees her mother crumple to the ground, empty eyed, blood pooling on the pavement. She finds her voice then, but she hardly recognizes the sound that tears from her throat as human. A deafening pulse of energy explodes outward from her body as she yanks her arm free and scrambles to the ground. _ No, no, no. _ Her mother's hands are limp and heavy, the blood is already beginning to congeal in her hair, and for the first time in her life Olivia reaches into the Fade around her without an ounce of fear and _ drags _ something back into reality. 

Chaos erupts around her.

“Demon, on your six!”

“Fucking voids, not again—”

“Someone neutralize the kid before—”

“—don't kill her, it only makes them stronger—”

“—did you _ have _ to shoot the mum you son of a bitch—”

Everything around her is bathed in harsh orange light. She smells something burning and watches in a daze as a vaguely humanoid shape engulfed in flames falls to the ground screaming right before her eyes. Something else has followed the first presence she's dragged through, and for a brief moment she thinks perhaps she may have overextended herself, but the lifeless body in front of her reminds her she suddenly has nothing at all left to lose, so she reaches through and _ pulls _ , again and again, until her voice is utterly spent and she no longer has the strength to hold herself upright. She collapses to the asphalt and curls up beside her mother, and everything is fire and agony and decay; but everything has an end eventually. She buries her face into her mother's chest and thinks that maybe, _ thank the Maker, _ she has finally found hers. 

* * *

5 Firstfall 19:99 Industry  
George Thrask, Knight-Captain, First Class  
Attn: Olivia Thrask  
Patient ID A0274  
Subject:

_ My daughter, I cannot undo what has happened, but know that with every fiber of my being I _

**Message Status: Draft_  
_**

* * *

6 Firstfall 19:99 Industry  
George Thrask, Knight-Captain, First Class  
Attn: Olivia Thrask  
Patient ID A0274  
Subject:

_ How are you settling into _

**Message Status: Draft**

* * *

6 Firstfall 19:99 Industry  
George Thrask, Knight-Captain, First Class  
Attn: Olivia Thrask  
Patient ID A0274  
Subject:

_ Olivia, I _

**Message Status: Draft**

* * *

7 Firstfall 19:99 Industry  
George Thrask, Knight-Captain, First Class  
Attn: Olivia Thrask  
Patient ID A0274  
Subject: I'm sorry.

_ I have failed you in so many ways. Words alone remain inadequate for how _

**Message Status: Draft **

* * *

15 Firstfall 19:99 Industry  
Olivia Thrask, Patient ID A0274  
Attn: George Thrask, Knight-Captain, First Class  
Subject: I am well.

_ I apologize for the delay in communication. This facility employs a probationary processing period before allowing outbound messages. I suspect you have worried, though your silence has been curious and uncharacteristic.  
_

_ I am well. The events of two weeks ago were unfortunate, but as you may have heard by now, I no longer possess the capacity for sorrow or regret. For this I am grateful; I imagine the memories would cause me no small amount of discomfort otherwise.  
_

_ Please do not suffer on my behalf. Our basic needs are met, and we are being provided an education tailored to our individual talents and skills. While this is not the life I would have imagined for myself, it is a satisfactory one.  
_

_ Be well. _

_ Olivia _

**Message Status: Read**

* * *

16 Firstfall 19:99 Industry  
George Thrask  
Attn: Knight Commander Theodora Hastings  
Subject: See Attached

_ On this day, the sixteenth of Firstfall, in the year of our Maker 19:99 Enlightened, I hereby tender my resignation and submit my application for discharge. _

_ 📎 thrask_resignation.pdf _

**Message Status: Sent**

* * *

16 Firstfall 19:99 Industry  
Theodora Hastings, Knight-Commander, Kirkwall Div.  
Subject: Recent Events

_ This is a private address, so we can dispense with the formalities. Thrask, I am so sorry about Margaret and Olivia. MCUs were dispatched within minutes of the formal ruling. By the time official channels were alerted there was...well. I'm sure you don't need me to rehash the details. We're going to be doing damage control for years over this mess.  
_

_ I can't imagine what you're going through right now, but please know my door is always open to you. _

_Theo_

**Message Status: Read**

* * *

> ** _Kirkwall Herald_ **
> 
> _ 25 Bloomingtide 20:06 Cataclysm _
> 
> ** _Historic Anti-Mage Ruling Reversed, Thousands Demand Reparations_ **
> 
> _ Prime Minister Dumar signed an executive order today reversing the Magical Hazard Suppression Act after six years of international pressure from civil rights committees across Thedas. _ _ Drafted in the aftermath of a devastating terrorist attack on the Chantry that all but leveled the Kirkwall City proper and killed several thousand caught in the blast radius _ _ , the MHSA mandates that “every mage with sufficient ability to cause definitive harm to body or property” be stripped of their magic and held in long term detention facilities under strict supervision. Dubbed “The Tranquil Solution” and decried both domestically and internationally as a massive personhood rights violation, the MHSA has faced significant opposition since its inception, only passing by a narrow 51 to 49 margin. _
> 
> _ “We as a united nation must put past misdeeds behind us and end the atrocities we continue to inflict upon the most vulnerable among our people,” Dumar said in the latest press release. _
> 
> _ There are many among Kirkwall City’s populace who disagree with Dumar’s decision. “The ability to conjure flames at a moment's notice doesn't make you vulnerable; it makes you a liability,” said Cedric Thomas, a university student from Tantervale present at a massive right-wing protest on the steps of the Keep. _
> 
> _ While many hope the MHSA reversal will mark a turning point for mage rights in the Marcher States, for some the outlook remains grim. Tess Burke, a thirty-nine year old single mother of two, called the ruling reversal “too little, too late.” Burke’s wife, a former professor in Kirkwall University’s Arcane Research and Development department, was detained shortly after the MHSA passed and later died in police custody. “The girls were three and five when it happened,” she said. “They asked me when their mum was coming home, and I had to explain why she wasn't. You just don't come back from something like that. This country murdered my wife, and no amount of apologetic hand wringing is ever going to bring her back.” _

* * *

> ** _Kirkwall Herald _ **
> 
> _ 15 Drakonis 20:18 Cataclysm _
> 
> ** _Mage Daughter of Former Knight-Captain Found Dead, Foul Play Suspected_ **

* * *

**_Kirkwall Herald_ **

> _ 16 Drakonis, 20:18 Cataclysm _
> 
> ** _Obituaries_ **
> 
> _ Olivia K. Thrask, 36, died 15 Drakonis, 20:18 Cataclysm. _
> 
> _ Olivia was born 23 Wintermarch, 19:82 Industry in the Old Town district of Kirkwall City. She was an elementary school teacher and a vocal advocate for children with special needs.  
_
> 
> _ She is survived by her father, former Knight-Captain George Thrask, and her fiancé, Owen Burke.  
_
> 
> _ She is preceded in death by her mother, Margaret Thrask; and grandparents, Dean and Harriet Murphy, Robin Thrask and Juliet Kingsley.  
_
> 
> _ Service will be held at 10 a.m., 17 Drakonis, at the Haven Funeral Home Chapel of Memories. Retired Knight-Commander Theodora Hastings will officiate. The service will be closed casket, and the family has requested no visitation be held.  
_
> 
> _ Contributions in Olivia's memory may be made to Our Lady Andraste School for the Deaf c/o Haven Funeral Home, PO Box 941, Kirkwall City, Kirkwall.  
_
> 
> _ Arrangements under the direction of Haven Funeral Home, Kirkwall City, Kirkwall. _

* * *

“Is that all you were able to find?” 

Evangeline pursed her lips and watched Aveline shuffle through a stack of crime scene photos and witness statements. The past three days had been an exhausting, excruciating mess. Between bureaucratic red tape, sealed medical records, an argument with the coroner that almost came to blows, and the blatant lack of cooperation from every single witness in the mage district where the body was found, she was ready to throw herself into her bed and sleep for the next week, minimum. No amount of coffee would shake the exhaustion settling deep into her bones. 

“Unfortunately, yes,” she said finally. “Captain, we need to find a way to get these witnesses to talk to us. This case isn't going to go anywhere without their cooperation.” 

“Yes, I'm aware. I read the reports.” Aveline paused and flipped through the papers again. “I have an idea that could be a potential game changer in the long run, but it's a big risk. I'm going to need the full cooperation of every single member of this team for this to work.” 

“Let's hear it,” Evangeline said. “I'm ready for any and all alternatives at this point. I think we all are.” 

Aveline stood up and smoothed the front of her shirt. “Get Rutherford, MacCallum, and Cordonnier and meet me in the conference room in twenty minutes. I have to make a phone call to an old friend.”

Evangeline nodded. “Yes ma'am, right away.”

Professionalism dictated she do as she was told, but her curiosity got the best of her as she exited Aveline’s office, and she lingered briefly at the door.

“Hello, Raleigh,” she heard Aveline say. “I need to speak to you about your recovery agent.” 


End file.
